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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746007">if my heart was a compass, you'd be north.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleromantic/pseuds/paleromantic'>paleromantic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, au where everything is lovely and no bad things have ever happened, i don't care if there's no park near the institute this is my city now, proposal fic, they're basically an old married couple anyway might as well make it official, they're happy and soft and in love and I think we should let them be</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 09:26:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,993</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22746007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/paleromantic/pseuds/paleromantic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Still though, he had barely finished and reached to lift his tape recorder to his lips before he heard the telltale sound of footsteps outside his door, the soft knock against the hardwood. </p><p>“Jon?”</p><p>Jon lowered the tape recorder, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Come in, Martin.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>180</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>if my heart was a compass, you'd be north.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi!!! I'm on s3 of TMA and I figured this fandom could use. A little more fluff dchefiuher I hope y'all enjoy!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon’s morning had been going rather well, really, until his body decided to betray him. The steady ticking of the tick-tock clock on his desk alerted him to the slow passage of time, stopping him from getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> lost in his work as he made his way through the latest stack of files on his desk. There was nothing too spectacular there, just more of the same worthless statements that scared people needed to get off their chest. Days like this made Jon realise just how important his job was- so many statements were fucking useless, what was Gertrude </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span> keeping most of these? It made no </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Why would she use such an archaic way of storing and sorting the statements, when they could be so easily digitised? Jon had ranted about this more than once- he was sure that Martin was sick of hearing about it, although he was too kind to let Jon know that. Most of the other archival staff told him to shut up before he had even </span>
  <em>
    <span>started</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach growled loudly, and his lifted his eyes from the paper to glance at the clock. It was just after eleven and the sun starting to peek more persistently through the blinds and scattering slotted sunlight across his desk, signaling that it was time for Jon to get lunch. Not that he was the most punctual with his eating, of course. Sometimes the day passed without him even noticing it, and he didn’t eat until Martin, Tim or Sasha came in to pester him into re-entering the world of the living. It wasn’t his </span>
  <em>
    <span>fault</span>
  </em>
  <span>- he loved his job, and it could get pretty distracting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He resolved to eat after this next statement, and then set to work preparing it to be recorded, piecing together the story to allow for effective dramatisation. He had to make it a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> interesting, after all. Still though, he had barely finished and reached to lift his tape recorder to his lips before he heard the telltale sound of footsteps outside his door, the soft knock against the hardwood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon lowered the tape recorder, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Come in, Martin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door creaked open softly, the sound as routine to Jon as the flicking of pages. Martin smiled as he saw him, before grimacing at the state of the room. Jon reddened, before standing up from his desk and turning to open the blinds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he pulled them up the room was flooded with light, illuminating the desk and it’s contents and catching the disturbed dust motes as they swirled around the room. For good measure, he reached up on his tip-toes to open the window out and let the fresh air in. If it had been earlier into their relationship, Jon perhaps would have waxed poetic about how the tradition of opening the blinds as Martin came into the room matched perfectly the way that Martin had opened the blinds on Jon’s life, making everything brighter and less stuffy- of course, just because he didn’t wax poetic anymore didn’t mean that it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>true</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it was just a simple fact of life for Jon now that his life was infinitely better with Martin Blackwood in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Busy morning, then?” Martin smirked, placing down their usual tray on the desk after clearing away the papers. There was a small pot of tea, accompanied by two mugs, a small jug of milk and some sugar cubes. “You’ll strain your eyes like that, working in the dark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon huffed and then pulled his hair out of his face, securing it into a messy ponytail and stepping around the desk to let Martin drop a quick kiss to his temple, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw in kind. It was their morning ritual, honed over the months and years that they had been together- Martin would bring tea and they would sit together, enjoying each other’s company on the company dime and forcing Jon to take a probably necessary break from his work. It worked well for them, and it had quickly become one of Jon’s favourite parts of the day- after going to sleep and waking up beside the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How has your morning been?” Martin poured the tea out into the mugs, adding two sugar cubes to Jon’s tea and leaving his own alone before adding the milk. “Wading through useless papers again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon huffed, and then scowled as Martin laughed quietly. “I really don’t understand why you all laugh at me so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because you’re hilarious, dear.” Martin replied dutifully, raising his mug to his lips and taking a quick sip to test the temperature. “It’s a shame that you’re stuck here in your office all day, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon hummed and drank his own tea, exhaling happily as the warmth hit his core and waiting for Martin to finish his thought. He knew that his boyfriend knew how much he loved staying in his office and doing his job, so he also knew that Martin was going somewhere with this train of thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Martin relented and spoke again. “What do you think of taking an hour or two off for the afternoon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon raised an eyebrow. “An hour or two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin pushed his bottom lip out slightly in thought, and Jon was lost. “It’s just so beautiful outside, love- when do we get weather like this usually?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, there was no way that Jon was going to say no to </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Just for an hour or two, and then I’ll need to get back to work.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin smiled, his eyes bright. “Of course, dear. I thought we could go to the park, go for a walk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon chuckled softly, fiddling with the spoon on the tray. The park near the institute had become their </span>
  <em>
    <span>place</span>
  </em>
  <span> after a particularly stupid argument, after which Martin had walked out into the rain and found himself without a coat, sitting on a bench in the park until Jon came after him with a coat and a travel mug of tea to keep his hands warm, armed with an apology and braced for a breakup. Of course, the latter hadn’t happened and they had returned to the institute stronger than ever, and stronger every day since. Martin loved to go there whenever they got the chance to, packing a picnic basket for them both and a blanket for them to sit on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, Jon loved him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds wonderful, Martin. When did you want to leave?” Martin’s smile turned sheepish, and Jon sighed with a smile. “Alright, let me clear the statements away first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin laughed, and then leaned over to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Jon’s mouth. “I’ll go clean the mugs and put everything back in the staff room. Meet you in five?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded, and then looked over as Martin left the room. “Love you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re just saying that because you can see my ass.” Martin laughed and turned around, winking before making his way into the staff room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon smiled, and then started to pack the papers away for later, ready to ease himself back into work once he returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun had left the pavement dry, so they strolled along the concrete path bordering the green area, their hands tucked together and their bodies bumping together every couple of steps while they idly talked and soaked in the nice weather. Martin had been right of course- it was a beautiful day, the kind of day that was soft around the edges and made everything just seem </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a while. Of course, the fact that it turned Martin’s hair to spun gold and copper didn’t hurt either, and Jon couldn’t tear his eyes away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes passed easily, and Jon was snapped out of his happy daze when Martin suddenly stopped walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin chuckled and leaned down, pushing Jons hair back and kissing his forehead. “Of course I am you numpty, stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>worrying</span>
  </em>
  <span> so much. Do you remember this bench though?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon did, of course. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> bench, the one that Jon had found Martin on, soaked to the skin and all alone. He smiled slightly at the memory- if that Jon and that Martin could only have seen them now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Jon’s attention, and he noticed that Martin had turned fully to face him, a gentle smile making his heart skip like a scratched record. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found me here, remember?” Martin laughed softly, shaking his head as if to dispel the memory of it. “We had had that stupid fight about your sleeping habits, and I had ran out here in the rain without really </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it. Of course, I thought about it pretty hard once I was sitting out here in the cold and the rain without even my cardigan on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon smirked. “You never were good at planning, dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin rolled his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me finish! You found me here, and do you remember what you said to me?” At Jon’s confused expression, he smiled. “You had a coat, and a travel mug, and you sat down next to me. You… you looked so worried, like you thought I was going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>break up</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you or something. And you held them out to me, and you said-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A memory came unbidden, and Jon spoke with him. “You don’t have to forgive me, but please come in out of the cold you’ll catch your death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin nodded, his eyes looking wet. “Yeah. As if I hadn’t already forgiven you, you daft man. But, but that’s when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a breath, and then released one of Jon’s hands to reach into his pocket, pulling out an object that Jon didn’t recognise. That is, he didn’t recognise it until Martin started to lower himself onto one knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Martin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s when I knew I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved you</span>
  </em>
  <span> loved you, y’know? You cared more about my health than you did about making me forgive you, you just-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sniffed, and then let go of Jon’s other hand to open the box. It was a plain silver band, a smoky quartz embedded in the metal there and looking just short of dazzling in the broad sunlight. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much, Jon, I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind blank, Jon spoke without thinking. “You… you still haven’t asked me anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a pause, Martin laughed wetly. “Yes, I suppose I haven’t. Jon-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped and cleared his throat. “Jonathan Sims, would you do me the honour of making me the happiest man alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon swallowed hard, nodding quickly before his mouth caught up with his thoughts. “Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course</span>
  </em>
  <span> I will, Martin-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin got to his feet, kissing Jon firmly at first before his smile got in the way. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon watched as he tugged the ring out of the box, holding his hand out to allow him to slide it onto his finger. Before he did though, he turned it so that Jon could see the engraving on the inside of the band. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us go then you and I…” Jon sniffled, and then laughed. “T.S Eliot, you sap.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin grinned. “You like it, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon took it from his fingers and slid it on, pushing it into place and admiring it. “It’s perfect, Martin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin didn’t look away from his face. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They must have looked insane, the pair of them crying in the park like that. Jon found that he sincerely didn’t care, for once. “I love you so much, Martin Blackwood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin smiled wryly. “That’s Blackwood-Sims to you, dear. Now, lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon wiped his face and then nodded, smiling again. He didn’t think that he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> smiling even if he tried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get out of here.”</span>
</p>
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